Doctor Who_ Bunker Soldiers - Martin Day [59]
At last we came to a knot of minor officials talking earnestly.
Beyond them, blocking a corridor from floor to ceiling, was a wall of fire.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked, and the group immediately opened to reveal Isaac’s wife and son at its heart. Both were weak with fear, and each had to support the other.
‘Isaac!’ exclaimed the woman. ‘He is trapped in the inferno!’
‘And where is Dmitri?’ I asked.
‘He is trying to find another way round,’ explained Nahum.
‘But I am sure this is the only way to get to my father’s chambers.’
‘No one has seen him!’ exclaimed Rebekah, collapsing into wails of anguish.
‘I have tried to approach the rooms from here,’ continued Nahum, ‘but the fire is too strong. It would devour me in moments.’
I remembered the storeroom I had discovered after my escape from tunnels – with one door leading outside and another leading further into the building.
I turned quickly to the soldiers who had accompanied me on the fruitless search for Vasil. ‘You know that there are secret tunnels that run through this building and back to the cathedral?’
I asked.
One or two nodded in response.
‘Were any of you ordered to search the underground passageways?’
One man nodded.
‘Did you find a way through to that corridor down there?’
The man looked back at me blankly.
‘Think, man!’
He shrugged his shoulders languidly. ‘I cannot remember.’
‘How do we get to the storeroom?’ I queried. ‘The one with the doors to the catacombs?’
Again, the man looked at me vacantly.
I could wait no longer. I hurried back through the corridors, not caring if the soldiers were following me or not. I would find the storeroom on my own if I had to.
I burst out of the building, pushing my way through the ragged crowd that had gathered there. I ran as fast as I could towards the small square surrounded by civic buildings that I remembered so keenly from my escape from the labyrinth.
I found the door easily enough, and was grateful beyond words that it hadn’t been bolted shut. Beyond was the storeroom, much as I remembered it from before, although some items had been moved, and the floor was further disturbed, which was consistent with the cursory exploration Dmitri had ordered.
The secret entrance to the labyrinth was to my left; the other door, which I had never opened, faced me. I ran to it, then turned at a noise behind me: two of the soldiers had followed me and were nervously stepping down into the chamber.
I reached for the door handle, then withdrew my hand. The metal was hot. This at least meant we were in the right part of the building – but it also meant it would not be easy to open the door.
‘Quick!’ I snapped to the men. ‘Bring some rags!’
They rummaged around, sending great plumes of dust spiralling into the air, while I tried desperately to pull my sleeves down over my hands as I scrabbled at the red-hot handle. I was frustrated to be so close and yet so powerless to intervene.
One of the soldiers offered a bundle of linen strips; I wrapped them quickly over my fingers and thumbs, and pulled again at the door.
It seemed not to shift at all; I suspected that the wood had expanded with the heat, and that there was now precious little gap between the big oak planks and the unforgiving flagstones.
I readjusted my makeshift protection against the heat – my fingers were screaming in protest, but I gritted my teeth to block the pain – and pulled again, bringing my full weight to bear, both hands straining at the handle with as much force as I could muster.
With a shriek, the door opened a crack and one of the guards forced his fingers into the gap, pulling hard.
Another harsh sound of protest, and the gap grew wider, admitting smoke and heat from whatever was beyond.
The gap between the door and wall was now sufficiently large for us